


Recruitment

by TransformersG1fan271



Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Fiction, General fiction, Literature, Short Stories, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 06:06:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransformersG1fan271/pseuds/TransformersG1fan271
Summary: Scarecrow recruits another broken soul from Arkham City





	Recruitment

**Author's Note:**

> So, I totally forgot I had an OC, and figured why not throw him back into things?  
> Here's his bio --> [transformersg1fan271.deviantar…](https://transformersg1fan271.deviantart.com/journal/Dr-Arthur-Vance-514996454) (cringe I know)
> 
> I don't own Crane or Arkham Knight --> Bethesda/DC
> 
> Enjoy

When Arkham Asylum was torn to shreds, those who worked within its walls were out of a job. One such one was Dr. Vance, the male turned away due to his position. Rumors had made its way around Gotham of his friendship with the Rogues, and many were frightened to have such a man come to work for them.

So, he wandered, living as a vagabond until he was dragged into Arkham City to “help” the inmates. Warden Sharp used his ties to manipulate those within his prisons walls, Vance often locked away in a cold cell to await his next beating. His once cheerful demeanor took a nosedive, emerging bitter and angry once the City was shut down. His meager restitution was considered nothing but blood money, the psychologist turning away offers of employment. He found himself making a home in the ruins of Arkham Asylum, solitude all too easy to find as no one dared enter the grounds. 

Arthur wasn’t sure if solitary had corroded his mind, but he awoke one night to the sound of footsteps. One was strong, the pace of each footfall unbroken as they made their way to what he now called home. The other was slow, a creaking metal echoing out as the door to his office was opened.

“Dr. Vance, come out.” A distorted voice sounded, the male standing to see a figure with a coursing blue helmet. 

“Why?” His voice was filled with suspicion, not even caring to mask his natural Irish accent.

“You have a visitor.” The masked man replied, stepping back when the second person joined them. “I’ll be outside.” The masked man left, leaving Vance and the other alone, staring at each other from across the room that had once been Vance’s office.

“Who are ye?” Vance asked, hands gripping into fists as the other began to approach him, footsteps slow and halting due to one leg being supported by a brace.

“Surely you recognize an old face?” The question held hints of mockery, Arthur slowly advancing forward. The face the rose to meet his caused the other to freeze, an icy rush of fear rushing through his veins. He took a step back with a raspy chuckle escaped a mangled… _thing_ of a face, brows furrowing.

“No, I don’t.” He snapped out his reply, the other tilting their hooded head for a moment.

“I suppose Waylon did more damage than you realized.” The lisp sounded out in the darkness, Arthur’s brown eyes going wide for a moment in alarm.

“Jonathan?” The name held guilt, relief, confusion, and a hint of joy. “Yer alive?”

“In a way.” The former psychologist sounded slightly disdained, his hidden expression softened as the other came close to him. Shaking hands pulled down the hood, revealing the pieced together face Jonathan now had. The silver purifiers, once a look to cause fear, now were necessary for the other to breathe, fused with mangled skin as if he had been born with them. Grey eyes watched him, cloudy as if the color had been leeched from them. His nose was now nothing more than a scarred hole, Arthur wincing as Jonathan turned from him, fixing his mask.

“Not a very pretty sight.” He shook his head, Arthur’s shock and horror starting to turn to a murderous expression. “Such hatred…”

“Hatred doesn’t begin ta cover it.” Vance’s eye twitched, unable to comprehend that such harm had been allowed to fall upon even Jonathan, despite not being cast into that wretched City. Jonathan smiled to himself, taking his former doctor’s hands into his own.

“Why not direct that hatred to those deserving of it?” Vance looked at him, looking confused. “I have a plan, a plan to finally teach Gotham a lesson, to teach Batman a lesson.”

“What plan?” Crane’s smile turned to a grin, both doctors starting to walk into the darkness of the Asylum as Scarecrow began to explain.  
if (!window.__meta_cache) {  
window.__meta_cache = [];  
}  
window.__meta_cache['daml737269423']=[] 


End file.
